


watching fish swim in a square glass bowl

by iiejn



Category: Ouran High School Host Club
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-22
Updated: 2009-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iiejn/pseuds/iiejn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>we all become our worst fears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	watching fish swim in a square glass bowl

_Gray’s Anatomy_ is studied rigorously every day. Kyouya, meticulous learner that he is, divides the book up religiously, chapters within chapters, all two thousand pages of it sectioned and sub-sectioned and part of a stringent revision agenda. In between trivial tasks (example: waiting for dinner to be served. Taking the lift to another floor) he revisits the day’s lesson and imagines every bone and vein and rubbery muscle beneath his fingertips. If possible he visits the laboratories for samples. Experiential learning is very important to him.

Tamaki appears in the January issue of Forbes. Nowhere is his name mentioned in the article (“ _Top 25 Asian Family Enterprises - A Prelude to Regional Corruption?_ ”), which features a lengthy interview with Tamaki’s father about corporate governance in the hotel industry, but Kyouya would recognise Tamaki anywhere, much less fail to identify his slightly worried-looking profile in the background of a photograph. He is straightening his tie in the faintly blurry candid that tops the page (a photograph of a hotel lobby). Suou Yuzuru talks about his “probable successor, who is trying his hand in several departments, starting from the basics”, and that is all. Lunch that day is a slow affair -- spent mostly poring over the magazine.

 

 

 

In April the school year ends and Kyouya prepares for three months or so of attachments, shadowing doctors and observing them in operating theatres. When he was younger the smell of blood and guts nauseated him. In between jobs he is called to attend an Ootori family gathering, extended kin and all, and he doesn’t comprehend why he “needs to be there”, in his father’s words, but appearances are everything, and tongues will wag if he is absent. He returns to Japan.

It is his sister who tells him on the very morning itself that the event is not so much a glorified family gathering as it is a large-scale social event. Kyouya isn’t surprised; everything the Ootori family plans has been put through some form of cost-benefit analysis, one way or another. “I thought you’d be displeased,” she says over their breakfast (continental). “I thought you knew me better,” he replies, and she laughs into her coffee. Personally, Kyouya feels that there isn’t much of a difference between an Ootori family gathering and a networking event. In his humble opinion both are one and the same.

There is no sign of the Suous from start to finish. Kyouya avoids the alcohol (short-term effect: impairment of judgment; long-term effect: liver damage) and fends off questions from several nosy guests. (“Have you finished your term in medical school?” “No, I haven’t, quite regrettably.” “I see … then I don’t think you are intending to be engaged to a fine young lady in the near future?” Laughter all around. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t got the time.”) The next day he catches the earliest flight back to Massachusetts.

 

 

 

At a convention held in Sophia Antipolis ( _Breakthroughs in Pacemaker Technology and the Role of Intelligent Microprocessors_ ) Kyouya surprises several Frenchmen by speaking to them in their native language. They ask him, “How old are you? You must have picked up the language when you were a child.” Kyouya smiles and asserts his belief that, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. His peers are enchanted by his candidness.

After the convention Kyouya arrives in Paris for a short stay. “There are several items Mother would like me to procure,” he tells his butlers, “and we’re going to have to buy some Pinot blanc to celebrate brother taking over the business. You know how particular he is about his wines.” He spends his first night in the Ritz studying the arteries. _The distribution of the systematic arteries is like a highly ramified tree_ , or so said Henry Gray.

“We’re going through to Barbizon today, by the way,” he tells Aijima in the car the next afternoon. “There’s some confectionery there that I’d like to pick up.” Which is a complete and total lie, and he knows that his butlers know, but none of them will probably take him up on it. They begin their tour at Champs-Élysées, and by the time they reach Barbizon it is nearly six in the evening. Aijima stops the car right outside the neighbourhood where Tamaki’s mother resides (“I feel like I’ve been here before,” he laughs), and Hotta insists on following Kyouya lest he gets mugged. “You never know, young master,” he says seriously.

The house where Tamaki’s mother used to reside is now empty. Kyouya makes Hotta wait at the gate while he walks up to the front door and knocks -- twice, and as politely as he can. When there is no response he peers into the windows, only to find that the living room is bare, save for a few pieces of furniture (an empty display cupboard, two armchairs, several empty photo frames haphazardly arranged on a side table). _Strange_ , he thinks. He approaches the next-door neighbour, an elderly man, who tells them that she had moved out two years ago. “Gave me a very nice porcelain tea set,” he says. “I’ve still got it with me.”

“I see,” Kyouya says.

“You study here, boy?” the old man asks. “You speak the language like --”

“Like a local?” Hotta pitches in with the little (broken) French that he knows, and Kyouya scowls at him. The old man gives them a toothless grin -- “Almost like one.” Kyouya doesn’t feel as offended as he thinks he should be. After all, his French is excellent, but it is not perfect.

 

 

 

A history of ailments: Occasionally Kyouya experiences bouts of light-headedness which make him feel as if he were, in a sickeningly realistic manner, spinning. It is a plausible explanation for his unhealthy sleeping habits and why he hates to wake up in the mornings. He has been told that the condition sets in, most of the time, because of fatigue; otherwise, he is a fairly healthy young man. His favourite sport is squash, and he doesn’t play the game more than is necessary every week. Recently the skin on his hands has been peeling. It is a deficiency in zinc.

In September of the same year Kyouya’s father announces that he is diagnosed with kidney failure. _Surely he didn’t plan for this to happen this early?_ , Kyouya thinks to himself. He could have slapped himself for it.

Tamaki sends his regards via a handwritten letter (his father’s comes in a separate one). He asks about the rest of the host club at length and indicates that he wishes to see Kyouya soon; we haven’t met for a while now, have we? All Kyouya can think about is the ridiculousness of such a gesture and how ridiculous Tamaki still is. Surely an e-mail would have sufficed? He puts the letter down on his desk and gives himself a minute or two to laugh about it.

 

 

 

 **Component Parts.** —As has already been stated (page 497), the heart is subdivided by septa into right and left halves, and a constriction subdivides each half of the organ into two cavities, the upper cavity being called the **atrium** , the lower the **ventricle**. The heart therefore consists of four chambers, viz., right and left atria, and right and left ventricles. The division of the heart into four cavities is indicated on its surface by grooves. The atria are separated from the ventricles by the **coronary sulcus** ( _auriculoventricular groove_ ); this contains the trunks of the nutrient vessels of the heart, and is deficient in front, where it is crossed by the root of the pulmonary artery. The **interatrial groove** , separating the two atria, is scarcely marked on the posterior surface, while anteriorly it is hidden by the pulmonary artery and aorta. The ventricles are separated by two grooves, one of which, the **anterior longitudinal sulcus** , is situated on the sternocostal surface of the heart, close to its left margin, the other **posterior longitudinal sulcus** , on the diaphragmatic surface near the right margin; these grooves extend from the base of the ventricular portion to a notch, the **incisura apicis cordis** , on the acute margin of the heart just to the right of the apex.

  


FIG. 490– Front view of heart and lungs.

 

 

 

“These are for your father,” Tamaki insists, pushing the paper bag across the table towards Kyouya, who inspects its contents -- several packets of traditional Japanese herbs neatly arranged in a box, accompanied by what Kyouya assumes is a card signed by Tamaki’s father. “Is he doing better now?”

Kyouya returns the box to the paper bag and smiles. “How could he not be? We’re in the medical business, after all.” They are seated in a restaurant atop one of the hotels that the Suou family owns. (“Shall we try the roasted sea bream? Today’s sea bream is really good.”) Tamaki has grown nearly an inch taller; as usual he is excitable and restless. 

Tamaki’s last question for dinner is, “How is school, Kyouya?”, and Kyouya replies, quite truthfully, that he likes it.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Tamaki tells him, and his expression is curiously wistful. Kyouya does not mention Barbizon.

 

 

 

_At the front doors of the hotel._

TAMAKI | How long are you staying for this time?  
---|---  
KYOUYA |  _(Stepping into the limousine.)_ Two weeks, at the most. There are a lot of things I need to settle back at school, even if it’s winter break now.  
TAMAKI |  _(Laughter.)_ You can’t help being busy, can you, Kyouya?  
KYOUYA | And neither can you, I’ve noticed.  
TAMAKI | Goodbye, Kyouya. Take care.  
  
_The chauffeur shuts the door._

_As the limousine turns around the corner Kyouya looks back. Tamaki is waving furiously -- then he slows down -- and then he stops. Kyouya can no longer make out the expression on his face; he is so small, so small as he stands straight and still against that concrete monster._

 

 

 

Later that night, at 11.18 p.m., Kyouya gives Tamaki a call. “I forgot to tell you,” he lies, “that I was in France this July.” Silence on the other end; only the sound of guests bustling in the background. He continues, “The place your mother was living in is empty now -- it seems like she’s moved away. I didn’t have the time to look for her.” _I’m sorry_ , he adds mentally.

“It’s okay,” Tamaki says quickly. “I’ve been told -- I think I’ll be able to meet her very soon. Father has been very pleased with my performance, and so is grandmother -- I mean, she doesn’t say it, but I think I’m starting to impress her.” Pause. “Thank you, Kyouya.”

Before he falls asleep Kyouya slowly realises the sad, cruel truth -- Tamaki wants a family he doesn’t have, and yet Kyouya doesn’t want the family that he has. In the dark he can make out, faintly, the spine of _Gray’s Anatomy_ sitting on his bookshelf, the title printed in silver, blurred by his myopia. It is a heavy book. He falls asleep with difficulty, tossing and turning, and when he finally does all he can dream of are scalpels and surgical scissors, blood and viscera and radiographs. An operation. When he wakes up in the morning he thinks it might have been his own.


End file.
